


insubstantial

by adorecas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-12
Updated: 2012-12-12
Packaged: 2017-11-21 08:50:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/595812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adorecas/pseuds/adorecas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>cas gets dean something unusual for christmas</p>
            </blockquote>





	insubstantial

“I do not understand this tradition, Dean.”

“It’s Christmas, Cas. We exchange presents to show we care, but –“

“I know how it works, I simply do not understand why it happens. Christmas is about our Lord God and –“

Dean sighed heavily, cutting Castiel off before he could start preaching about the true meaning of Christmas again. He watched as Dean’s rough fingers relinquished their grasp on his glass of eggnog, and made their way to his temples, rubbing slightly.

Castiel took a few hesitant steps towards the hunter before awkwardly sitting on the edge of the motel bed. His face was stoic as always, the lines and creases of his brow permanently etched into his skin. Cas dropped his chin slightly, his thin fingers tracing the edges of his lips.

“Dean, I...”

Dean Winchester looked up, arching his brow and simultaneously tightening his lips – a habit he had picked up over the years, Cas had noticed. He wasn’t sure about the proper human way to go about requesting gifts or asking what others would desire as a gift, but he figured there was no better way than to simply ask outright.

“What would you like for Christmas, Dean?”

His teeth sank slightly into his pink bottom lip, slightly askew. His eyes were locked on Dean’s face, but Dean’s expression was unreadable.

“You’re supposed to surprise someone with something you think they’ll like, Cas. If I tell you what I want, and you get it for me, it’s not a surprise.”

“Oh.” Castiel’s brow crumpled again. These human traditions were so complex, but his resolve was only strengthened; he knew it was what Dean would call ‘ballsy’ but it was something he greatly desired – he only hoped that Dean would feel the same way.

\--

Hours later, Sam is passed out drunk on his motel bed, and Dean is still up, drinking and sitting in the dark with Castiel. They sit on opposite sides of the small motel table, Dean on his fifth cup of eggnog, Castiel with his hands folded in his lap. Cas’s face is broken into a large smile, watching Dean’s every movement with fervor. He’s had a few shots at Dean’s request, but the alcohol is almost like water to the angel. Dean tells terribly vulgar jokes that Cas doesn’t understand, but he laughs along just as loudly as Dean. After a while, he relaxes and his overcoat is on the back of the chair, his tie is off and he has a drink in his hand at Dean’s command. He drinks it whenever Dean reminds him to, which is becoming less frequent.

After a while, the afterglow of laughter and smiles emanates from the two men as they sigh in tandem. Dean finishes off another cup, but doesn’t reach for another.

Instead, he slowly rises from the table, leaning heavily to one side. In an instant, Cas is at his side, arm around his waist to support him. Dean tries to shrug him off but can’t manage to stay standing on his own, and succumbs to the help. His arm is around Castiel’s neck, the sensation of skin-to-skin contact sizzling its way up Castiel’s spine, and rippling over his cranium like tiny waves of pleasure. He grits his teeth as Dean trods heavily on his foot. With one swoop, Castiel maneuvers the elder Winchester to his motel bed and lays him down. Dean grins boyishly up at the angel, and sticks his feet off the edge of the mattress.

Dean has a pout on his face and is wiggling his feet in a manner that suggests that they are too heavy. Castiel watches the hunter for a moment, unsure, before realizing what Dean is trying to do. Cas gently helps him out of his shoes, followed quickly by his jacket, his button up shirt, and his jeans. Dean does most of this himself, but Cas helps keep the man upright, and helps him when he gets stuck inside his own t-shirt. Dean falls backward onto the bed, and sighs happily, his body lying adjacent to where Cas sits stiffly at the foot of the small, uncomfortable mattress. Cas turns to face the man, and his eyes harden as he forces himself into action. His lip quivers slightly as he rises, more nervous than he has felt in a thousand years, but he rounds the edge of the bed, easily lifting Dean and sliding him under the covers. Dean’s eyes are open when Cas moves him as easily as a small child, watching the angel very closely. Cas catches his gaze once, but avoids eye contact while he tucks the hunter in.

Once Dean is safely under the covers and his eyes are beginning to droop, Cas stands. He looms over the side of the bed, biting his bottom lip and squinting. His chin falls ever so slightly, but it’s too dark for Dean to see his face, he is sure. His white button-down shirt is slowly falling off as Castiel undoes each button, one by one, as though unleashing a part of himself that he has never allowed to surface. By the time he reaches the empty side of the bed, he’s matching Dean. In nothing but the white boxers Jimmy was wearing when Castiel took over, Cas perches uncomfortably in the empty space on the motel mattress. Dean looks over, his eyes glazed and half open, his mouth slightly agape. Cas watches his movements, absorbs the man’s reaction to Cas wearing almost nothing and sitting a mere two feet away. Dean’s eyes sharpen and his brow furrows slightly. His mouth remains agape but he doesn’t back away.

Castiel sighs lightly and braces himself.

Turning to match Dean’s position, Cas slides under the comforter and places his head gingerly on the pillow next to Dean’s.

For a moment, he can only struggle to steady his breath and stare at the ceiling.

When he finally gathers the courage to turn and look back at Dean, the man has inched a bit closer, his face etched with confusion.

“Cas....what...what are you doing?”

His lips are pressed in a thin line as he responds. “I wanted to give you a Christmas present. Human tradition doesn’t state that these presents need be substantial objects, so I was hoping that...”

He trails off, watching Dean’s inebriated mind wrap slowly around the words Cas is spilling out.

“I don’t mean to assume – I meant only to say that –“

Cas is tripping over his words and Dean isn’t moving and all of a sudden everything was going terribly wrong and not as planned at all. Cas groaned and threw his head back against the pillow, closing his eyes and covering his face with his hands.

“I should go,” he says, turning quickly away from Dean and moving to slip his legs off the bed. Before he moves more than four inches, though, he feels a strong hand close around his upper arm. Cas freezes, one leg over the edge of the bed, half turned away as his face burned in embarrassment.

“Stay.”

Dean’s word was clear as day – no drunken slurring, no sleepy filter. The word ran circles around Cas’ brain, trying to make sense of what it meant. He slowly turned back around, making eye contact with the hunter.

“Are you...quite sure?” His voice was thin and timid, almost a whisper. His chest ached with want, with the need to be curled up flush against Dean’s side, with the desire to have his head resting on Dean’s slowly falling and rising chest. He could barely dare to breathe at this point.

Dean nodded, face still unsure, but decidedly not repulsive. Cas slid back under the covers, stiff as a board with his limbs by his side and a foot of space between the two men. Dean let go of Cas’ wrist, and slowly resumed his position on the bed.

There was a long silence that followed, both men’s breathing shallow and unsteady.

“Cas?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Did you say...you were going to give me a Christmas present?”

Most of the slur had fallen out of Dean’s speech, proving Cas’ actions had quickly sobered him up. Cas bit his lip at the thought, wondering if it was a good sort of sober.

“Um, it’s silly Dean. Forget it. I should go,” he repeated, but didn’t move. Every fiber of his being was hoping against hope that Dean wouldn’t make him leave.

Dean was silent, though. Cas turned his head to the side and caught Dean’s gaze, which was directed at him in a sort of endearing, confused sort of way. Dean wasn’t pressing the situation with words, but his expression was benign enough that Cas gathered his courage and went on.

“I uh, Dean I was wondering if –”

Dean’s gaze never left his, the green eyes staring deeper into Castiel than he original thought humans could.

“If you wanted to uh –”

He heaved a great breath, watching Dean’s every movement (the very few that there were).

“Cuddle.”

The word was mumbled and probably incoherent as Cas pulled the blankets up over his face. He shouldn’t be feeling so much embarrassment – this was Dean! – but he couldn’t help but feel silly for thinking this would be a good present, despite how badly he wanted it. If he had any sense he would simply leave without a trace, and try to pretend like nothing had happened the next time they crossed paths.

He was very still for several seconds, waiting for some reaction from Dean while he mentally beat himself up for even speaking or getting into bed with the man. He was halfway through a thought about transporting himself into an isolation cell in an abandoned prison when he felt a hand come to rest on top of his head. The strong fingers weaved their way through his hair and began to run back and forth in a soothing motion. He could hear a slight noise coming from very close to him, and after pulling the blanket back down to reveal his face and look up at Dean, he could discern that Dean was humming some song he didn’t recognize. Whatever it was, though, it was incredibly soothing to hear Dean’s voice this way. It was such a comforting act – something Castiel understood was typical of mothers to their children or husbands to their wives. Gently, Castiel nudged his body a little closer to Dean, slightly narrowing the gap between them and testing the waters.

Just as he moved, Dean’s hand moved off of his head and slid to the other side to slide under his arm. Before Castiel could react, Dean had pulled the smaller man towards him, resting Cas’ head in the crook of his shoulder, his face landing directing on Dean’s chest. Dean’s strong arm curled around Cas’ side, forcing Cas’ arm to fall on Dean’s stomach, where Cas’ body reacted involuntarily. He curled up, one arm on Dean’s chest, clutching at his thin t-shirt, his legs tangling themselves up with Dean’s, and his face burying itself into Dean’s chest as well, inhaling that heady scent that Dean always seemed to radiate.

They laid together for a very long time, neither of them speaking, but Dean’s fingers running back and forth through Cas’ hair, Cas drawing mindless designs across Dean’s chest, the sensation sending thrills up both of their spines. This was _comfortable_. It was more than Cas could have hoped for. He never expected Dean to be so willing to cuddle, much less for it to be so incredibly at ease.

Finally, after what was probably hours of comfortable silence, Dean leaned in, pressing his nose to Castiel’s hairline, Cas’ back arching towards the hunter in response. Dean paused for a moment, apparently simply reveling in the scent as Castiel’s fingers wandering up to trace the man’s jawline.

“This was the best thing you could have gotten me for Christmas, Cas.”

Dean’s voice was low and rough, his mouth pressed to Cas’ ear. Cas’ whole body erupted in tingles at the feel of Dean’s breath so close to his skin, and he took a moment to collect himself before deciding to take one last blindly courageous risk for the night. He leaned his head back, making direct eye contact with a surprised Dean, who let a small whimper out at the sudden lack of contact. His eyes flicked back and forth from Dean’s eyes to his mouth, before he leaned in and very gently pressed their lips together, leaving them there just long to allow Dean to react and return the gesture. It was a brief, chaste kiss, but it was more then Cas wanted to believe was real. He refused to press his luck in one night, though, and broke the kiss with another gentle move, a smile forcing its way onto his lips at the look on Dean’s face. All trace of drunkenness was gone – Cas could see it in his eyes, the way they weren’t glazed over at all, but bright and intense. Dean’s grin crept up to match Cas’ and the two simply reveled in each others’ presence for another few seconds before Cas returned his head to Dean’s chest, his fingers resuming their comfortable trek around Dean’s upper body. Dean’s hand made its way back into Cas’ hair, the pads of his fingers rubbing pleasure into Cas’s scalp, their bodies both relaxing into each other, creating an embrace that would become all too familiar. The last thing Cas can recall of that night just before closing his eyes and shutting his mind down to relax in an pseudo-sleep for a few hours was the sound of Dean’s humming starting back up, and the feel of his lips pressed to Cas’ forehead, lingering slowly before Dean drifted off to sleep, the melody still playing in Castiel’s head.


End file.
